There isn’t enough strength in my limbs for me to stand so I crawl along the floor, examining every inch of space like he can hide in thin air. The space under the chair isn’t big enough to hide him but I push it out of the way as I call, “Kid?”
He’ll be in the bathroom. I told him to hide in there, and he forgot to close the door.
“He would come out when you call him,”Asher says.
“Fuck you,” I grit as I climb to my feet. “Come out, Kid. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
When I enter the bathroom, it’s empty too. Other than my t-shirt folded on the closed toilet lid with the socks I left him neatly placed on top. My bottom lip trembles. I can’t fucking breathe as I carefully lift them.
“Kid?”
I turn in a circle then walk to the bed with my feet weighted. There’s a small dent in the pillow, like he’s going to come back to lay his head in the same position he always does. The pillow is waiting for him just like I am, but he’s not going to come back. My body crumples in slow motion until I’m kneeling beside the bed. I rest my hand on the sheets, but there’s a thin rectangular lump.
I slowly push it up until my phone pokes out of the gap between the sheets and the mattress. The screen automatically unlocks, a small preview box of the gallery shows his little smiling face, blurring as a silent sob chokes me. I click on it, fighting the tremors taking over me to hear his giggling break through my sorrow. He’s fucking giggling as he pulls funny faces to himself in one of my t-shirts.
“Kane, look! I can do it.” More giggles.
“I can see, Kid,” I whisper.
“Okay, it’s my turn,” he says, holding up two fingers.
“Two words.”
He nods like he can hear me, bringing the camera down so it’s under his chin, holds the tip of his nose, then flares his nostrils as he pulls his nose up.
“Dark holes,” he exclaims, laughing louder.
Kid’s funny faces slow down like he’s lost in thought. It takes a moment for him to begin speaking again, but it’s slower, quieter as he stares at a butterfly on the bottom of the screen.“I hope you come back. I like sleeping on the bed. Sometimes I get scared, now that you’re not here. I didn’t like it when they touched me.” My chest aches as he smiles. “You’re my first friend. I hope Delilah is my second friend.”
Within a split second, he turns from a normal boy to a terrified child at the loud knock on the door. The screen turns black, still recording for me to hear Rowan say, “It’s time for a welcome party, sweet boy.”
Kid robotically answers, “Yes, Master.”
There’s another thud then rustling that makes my stomach turn as the phone is pulled from under the sheets. Thankfully, he’s alone. His chin is tucked to his chest and he doesn’t look at the butterflies as he whispers, “Hi, Kane. You said you don’t know how to explain a promise. I do. It’s like you. It leaves.” He looks up, giving me one last small smile. “Bye. You won’t see me again.”
I broke my fucking promise.
I left him alone. I went to Delilah, now…
My head drops to the still-warm bed. It’swarm. I could have helped him. I should have kept my promise. I was selfish. I chose her—myself—over a promise to Kid. Now he’s gone.
There’s more rustling through the speaker as he hides the phone, then his small footsteps go into the bathroom. Something clatters through the speaker, but I can barely hear it over the sound of my sobs echoing in the space between my arms as I wrap them around my head.
His footsteps come closer, before he whispers, “I wish you kept your promise. I can do the trick though. Thank you for teaching me I don’t need to let it happen. And for letting me see the butterflies.”
My head snaps up. I snatch my phone, scrubbing the recording back to watch it again because he sounds stronger. My eyes widen in the black strips at the top of the screen when heopens his mouth to place a razor blade against his cheek. A razor blade I fucking hid.
I half-crawl, half-run into the bathroom to check the side of the sink for the razor blade I tucked between the porcelain and the steel support. It’s not fucking there. I fucking killed him. I killed Kid. I gave him the fucking blade!
No.
It has to be there.
I grip the steel legs and pull.
The porcelain screeches, tile cracking as I keep fucking pulling in search for the fucking blade I left.
I didn’t kill him.
